Orders, and Who Takes Them
by R Unworldly
Summary: She barely saw him move. Suddenly her back was against the wall, his eyes burning into hers. "I can make you take that back," His voice betraying a fight for control. –"With what measures?" She returned, glaring, "It'll take more than money to get me to take orders from you." –"Who said anything about money?" Anything she would have said was lost when his body pressed against hers.
1. Chapter 1

If it was possible to go slowly insane from hearing keys click on a keyboard, Nami was sure she'd be three padded squares from the loony bin by now.

Her hands kept busy; wiping out glasses she'd cleaned twice-over already. Her feet itched to walk back over to his table…again, and give-him-a-hint-to-get-out/see-if-he-needed-anything-else. It was already two hours past closing. 2 am. Everyone else gets to go home when he comes and stays this late.

Her rag hand twisted inside the expensive glass with vigor.

The cooks don't even stay, since he never orders food after closing.

Nami threw the rag down with a grimace.

That doesn't keep him from staying as long as he damn well pleases.

She grabbed a different rag and a squirt bottle full of cleaner. The counters would be polished with a vengeance…for the second time.

Damn the rich bastard for sweet-talking the boss and waving money under his nose. And damn her boss for allowing this. Out of all the restaurants he could have picked to loiter at every week, it had to be the one she worked at.

She scrubbed non-existent spots from the counter-top, imagining his face under her cleaning rag of fury.

He just had to come here and throw his money around so he could get his way…and sit in her section…damn it.

The bar counter was done all too soon, again. There was really nothing else for her to do. She leaned on her elbow with a silent huff and blew a long wavy brown strand out of her eyes.

She could see him sitting across the room at "his" table. Leaning slightly back against his chair, eyes intently focused on his laptop…and whatever the hell he was typing. He couldn't do that at home?

She wearily glanced over at the clock. Its hands were steadily creeping near the 2:20 mark. She let out a gusty sigh and decided to go "see if he needed anything."


	2. Chapter 2

As she grew closer she could see his hair was a little tousled on the left side, as if he'd been leaning on his hand to write in that notebook of his. Which, she could see, was with him yet again, right next to his laptop.

Donning a fake smile that'd fool few, but would observe the formality, she came to a stop next to his table with her hands clasped gracefully behind her back. "Is there anything else I may get for you, sir?"

There was a slight, fairly non-existent, pause to his incessant typing before he replied, "No."

The inconsiderate bast-…(cough)…patron, didn't even bother to lift his eyes from the computer screen to answer her.

The proper server response to his curt reply would've been to: politely, tell him to let her know when he needed anything…but she wasn't about to give him that much leeway…and she wanted to go home and take off her shoes damn it.

Nami used the few moments before a courteous withdrawal would be necessary to rack her brain and scan the surroundings for possibilities. The dimmed lights and his concentration on reading and typing were the first things to jump out at her. Backhanded apology it would be, then.

"By the way, I do apologize for the dimmed lights at this hour. They are set to automatically dim at a certain time each night." Like closing-time, you ass. "I'm sorry the light in here can't do much to help you see what you type." She took a cautious breath, hoping he'd get the hint.

His bored tone relieved her of that notion.

"Typically, the light coming off the screen is sufficient."

Nami felt a twitch threaten her right eye. Admittedly, her attempt would've made more sense if he'd been writing in the notebook, but she got the feeling the drifts and hints she'd been sending weren't going undetected so much as they were being ignored…and it pissed her off.

Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Him with his black button-up and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Despite the fabric being somewhat rumpled from a full day of use, it had a sleek quality that screamed money. His hair even, tousled from leaning on his hand and running his fingers through it, seemed to fall over his glasses at perfect intervals; neither revealing nor obscuring the glinting frames.

Under normal circumstances, his cool air and ability to look stylish even while laid back, not to mention his slightly disheveled appearance, would have been appealing. Instead, she couldn't help but get more and more irritated by his mere presence.

He sat forward as he continued to type; the glint of his lenses concealing eyes narrowed in single-minded concentration.

Oh, she knew who he was. Not many were unaware of the Ootori's, and she was certainly no exception.

Her eyes narrowed in her own bout of concentration.

Her opinion of rich people like him had steadily worsened over time.

The small aches in her toes and in-steps began to protest louder. Who knew such a low-heeled shoe could be a bother after hours of standing and walking? So much for her attempt to have semi-stylish feet for a day.

"You've been typing for a long time," She pressed her hand on the table for emphasis, "You must be getting a bit tired by now."

The barest hint of a sigh moved his shoulders. It was hard to tell passed the glint of his glasses, but it looked like his eyes shot a glance of exasperation her way. "I'll endeavor to persevere."

She had to get the guy out of here before her feet ordered her to take off a shoe and beat him with it.

She glared serenely at his empty glass beside his laptop; ice long melted at the bottom. "I haven't refilled your drink for a while. Water, was it?"

His gaze tilted towards the glass momentarily before returning to his screen. "If you feel you must."

Her hand was forcefully calm as she took up his glass and headed back to the bar. When she returned, she brought his still empty glass and a pitcher of ice water.

"With ice still, I presume?" Setting the glass down, she gestured with the pitcher.

His only answer was a muffled "Mm," as his chin was now resting in one propped hand.

Her left hand discreetly pinched the table cloth as she moved to clasp and reposition the glass. As she began pouring into the now partially off-kilter, ridiculously expensive glass, it was with great inner pleasure that she watched the resulting events unfold.


	3. Chapter 3

It's amazing to see how fast water can shoot across the table when provoked by gravity and inertia. What's even more amazing is seeing a usually apathetic expression transition to shock and bewilderment.

He didn't react immediately to the sound of the glass tipping over, nor realize that the rushing water quickly overtook the bottom of his laptop. No, what really helped him put on some expression was the ice cold water going off the table into his lap. Few are immune to that.

The chair tipped backwards as he sprung up and back from the table. For a few seconds he just stared down in shock with his hands spread out to his sides, as if unable to comprehend the water seeped over his crotch and thighs. It was delicious.

Those shocked first seconds transformed into a brief display of panic. He sprung back to his precious laptop, gingerly lifting it from the slight puddle that had formed around it.

As much as she was enjoying all of this, she decided to finish playing waitress and start the process of sending him on his way. "Oh my, I'm sorry. I'll have to get you a towel to wipe that off." She let her eyes lower briefly to the rest of him. "And one for…you as well?"

He diverted his eyes from the laptop and turned towards her. The look he leveled at her was probing, as if he'd just seen her for the first time…which probably wasn't too far-fetched, since it was rare for him to deign to look up from his notebook or laptop.

His eyes narrowed slightly from behind his glasses. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Nami kept a clear expression and shook her head lightly. "What purpose would spilling water serve? It just makes more work for myself; now I have to clean the table cloth." She blinked once as if something had just occurred to her. She gestured slightly with one hand. "Speaking of which, I'll need to have your things cleared off so I can remove the table cloth and have it cleaned."

He started slowly towards her, his open laptop resting on one arm. She ignored his approach and continued. "I'm afraid the rest of the table cloths have already been put away for the night, so you'll have to be accommodated at another time."

His approach stopped a mere foot from her, her existence being taken in by a considering gaze. "How convenient for you, that a glass should tip over just as you wanted to leave and go home."

She returned his gaze with one of her own. "With all due respect, if that was the case, a glass would have tipped over a few hours ago…" She looked to the side then slowly back at him. "when the restaurant closed."

He acquired a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't believe you're paid to worry about that. The owner and I have come to an understanding."

She put on a fake smile of her own. "You're right; I'm not paid much at all. Certainly not enough to worry my pretty little head over why I have to stay and wait on someone after hours."

"Indeed." His eyes traveled down her length, taking in her wait-staff issued attire: the white ruffled blouse with no sleeves and black pencil skirt that ended a few inches above her knees. "A waitress who can't manage to pour water into a glass..." His eyes came back up to hers. "underpaid, I'm sure."

Nami fought not to purse her lips, though her fake smile became more forced. "Why don't I get you a few towels? It's always good to clean up after an accident."

His gaze hardened, and he didn't have to look down for her to know he knew what she was implying. He took a step forward. She compensated by stepping back to maintain space between them. The cool wall was a surprise against her back; she hadn't realized she was so close to it. "You will not imply," he leaned in to rest his free hand against the wall beside her head, "nor will you even slightly misconstrue, outside of this restaurant and moment, that this brief accident of water in my lap was more than what it was."

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Of course not, sir. The front of your pants being wet is clearly more your business than it is mine."

She could feel his body heat stretching out across the short distance between them. The calm, consistent, in and out of his breath gently moved her wavy strand of brown hair against her face. At this close distance, she could see his eyes clearer through his lenses, with no glare to obscure them. A curious shade, grey-black. Even with his slightly removed expression, the feeling of his eyes being latched onto hers was peculiar.

She inwardly shook herself out of her ridiculous thoughts. Asshole, remember. Rich jerk. Inconsiderate bastard. Don't be forgetting that, girl. "If you'll excuse me," She said with firmness, "I need to be clearing the table cloth before the water seeps into the table."

He held her gaze for a few moments before slowly pushing off the wall and stepping back. She made her way around him, but stopped to toss over her shoulder, "There should be hand towels in the bathroom sufficient for drying, as well as an air-dryer should your laptop really need it."

With that, she went back to the table to begin her work. She felt his gaze on the back of her head for a moment before she heard him walk away towards the bathroom.

She gathered up the pitcher and now empty glass and took them back to the bar. Returning to the table, she almost began tugging on the table cloth before she realized his notebook was still on it. Sighing, she walked around and removed it, setting it on a nearby table. She was about to resume removing the table cloth when she stopped. She turned and looked at the notebook with a contemplative gaze.

When he emerged from the bathroom cradling his laptop, he saw Nami wiping down the cleared table. Looking around for a moment, he spotted the folded table cloth off to one side, and then relaxed when he finally saw his notebook set on a neighboring table.

She was still finishing up a few minutes later when she heard his voice from the entryway. "I could be wrong, but isn't the wait-staff supposed to see the patron out and tell them to come again?"

"Yes." She replied absentmindedly. "You could be wrong."

A small smirk appeared on his lips. She didn't need to look to see it. "Is that a refusal? Menial pleasantries too much for you, are they?"

She looked up from scrubbing the table cloth. "It's not like I won't see your patron face again next time."

His face turned far too contemplative for her liking before he turned towards the doors and said lowly, "We'll see."

Nami had just finished locking up fifteen minutes later when her newly turned on cell phone buzzed to announce a text message. Glancing at it while buttoning her coat, she glowered when she read the text from her boss. Threaten her job would he? Who did the rich bastard think he was?

She shrugged it off as she headed to her apartment. She couldn't help the small smug smile tugging at her mouth when she thought of his notebook. Her gamma had always taught her to find at least one ace to keep up her sleeve.


	4. Chapter 4

15 minutes and two achy feet later, Nami trudged into her quaint, neat apartment. Sliding her coat off her shoulders, she grimaced at what she knew she had to do.

She'd contacted her boss back on the way home, trying to explain away that night's incident as a simple misunderstanding and disgruntled patron. Naturally, given how near to 3am he'd been contacted with the demand of her discontinued employment, and the amount of importance Ootori had as a patron, her boss was grumpy and of no mind to take her word for it.

The conversation had ended with her assurance that she'd clear things up with her boss in the morning, and her boss's assurance that if she didn't, she wouldn't need to bother coming to work the next evening...or ever.

Now all she could do was grimace, for her only way out of this mess was something she hated to do, and only did when there was no other conceivable option…call her gamma.

She knew she should just get it over with tonight, since her gamma wouldn't check her messages until morning, and would get up early enough to have re-secured the job before Nami's alarm clock even went off.

After dressing for bed, Nami leaned against the wall, and hit the speed dial on her cell. When the tone to leave a messaged beeped, she took a breath and began, "Hey, gamma. I'm sorry I haven't called for a week. And I still plan to visit in two weeks. Before you ask, don't worry about the late hour I'm calling, I'm not in any imminent trouble that's cause for panic…" she sighed, rubbing a temple with one hand, "however…my job is in trouble. There was a misunderstanding with a patron tonight, an important patron. And I need…I need you to run interference for me." Another sigh, "I know it's only been a few months since the last time something like this happened, but I got this job all by myself this time, and I really want to keep it." A pause, "I hate to ask for something like this, but I promise I'll explain more later. I love you."

She set her phone on the nightstand and sighed again. After making it a few months without some kind of incident, it was disappointing to have to make that kind of call.

Oh well, she thought. It was bound to happen again eventually. After all, it was much harder to put up with rich people on this side of the class line.

She pulled back the covers and sank into bed. With another sigh, this time out of content, she pulled her smooth and cushy blankets up to her chin. She'd made do with average items for the rest of her apartment, but one thing she couldn't let go of, her one remaining vice…expensive bedding.

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating, and for how short this chapter is. I know Kyoya doesn't show up in this chapter, but he will soon!****  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Barely a half hour after the sun made its unwelcome self climb above the horizon, Nami's phone rang. Eyes staying closed, her hand slowly felt its way over to the nightstand. Dragging the godforsaken noise-maker to her ear, she pressed the answer button. In a voice not belying her lack of consciousness, she spoke, "Hello?"

She'd been expecting this call. It never failed to amuse her how such a petite and nice (to Nami anyways) old woman like her gamma could make someone toe the line with but a handful of words. Gone was the grumpy and threatening tone her boss had had not many hours before. Now, his words were carefully polite as he explained her job was no longer in jeopardy for last night's incident. She made affirming noises in the right places as he wrapped up his message, him stressing that further incidents on her part with an Ootori would put him, as owner, in an awkward position. However much sway Nami's influential benefactor (as far as he knew) might have, an Ootori could make his life miserable if action wasn't taken for repeated offenses.

She once again affirmed that she understood, and the call ended shortly after. She let herself seep back into unconsciousness, but it was in vain, for her phone rang again barely ten minutes later. With a groan of lament, the phone still in her hand was raised and answered once more, "Good morning, gamma."

"Good morning, dear." Her gamma's voice, though indeed sounding like a woman who has aged many a year, was as crisp as the morning air; no sign of soft grogginess, despite the early hour. "I set that man, that boss of yours, straight before the sun even thought about shining through his window this morning." A chuckle, "You should have heard him try to be snippy with me about the early hour when he answered. Honestly, how many hours of sleep does one man need when he doesn't work till late like you do?" A derisive sniff, "Oh, how the tune changed when I lit into him a bit. I swear…You know, in my day…not that I'm not glad I re-secured your job, dear…men actually had spines."

Nami couldn't help the sleepy smile that pulled at one corner of her mouth. She yawned, "Oh gamma, give the guy a break, he never stood a chance against you." Another yawn, "And why long for a time where men were even more stubborn?"

Her gamma chuckled, "Oh Nami dear, I don't long for more of that godforsaken stubbornness, just for men who don't give up the moment they're faced with a formidable opposition. I'm not saying the men of my day couldn't be brought to heel; it just took more than fifteen minutes and required more effort."

"What more is gained by that?" Nami asked with a smile.

Gamma didn't miss a beat, "A sense of accomplishment."

They both shared a light chuckle, and could feel each other's smiles through the phone. After a moment though, Nami heard gamma take in a breath and get serious.

"Nami dear, about this Ootori boy…it sounds like he could really put pressure on the owner to fire you if the disgruntlement between you two continues…should I have a talk with him as well?"

"No!" Bolt upright in bed now, Nami tried to soften her reaction, "No. I can take care of him myself."

Some tsk tsk-ing was heard over the line, "Don't let confidence become arrogance, dear. You're no longer in the position to simply tell a boy like that to keep quiet and have him listen."

Nami scoffed, "Trust me, I don't think he listens to anybody like that." Muttered to herself, "Does whatever he damn well pleases."

"We all do, in our own way." They both hummed their agreement.

She stayed sitting up for a while after the call ended, picking at invisible fuzzies on her blanket. Her half-awake thoughts drifted to whether or not he would show up again tonight. The look on his face when he realized he didn't get his way for once…she couldn't suppress a small, smug smile. She was too tired to dwell on that thought, however, and soon flopped back to the pillows into the arms of sleep.

Her conversation with gamma must have gone on longer than she thought, though, because it was only fifteen minutes later that her alarm clock went off.

"God_damnit_!"


End file.
